Under the Lights (15 page)

God, Josh Chester is so infuriating. I wish he didn't throw such good parties; I swear I'd never find myself around him otherwise. Although, now that his run on the show is over and Ally's completely free of him, I probably never have to.

It's a nice thought.

I ask the bartender for something stronger than the shot I just drank way too fast, and he hands me something with a cherry and way too much alcohol. I accept it anyway. The idea of facing Bri again this soon after the inexplicable tummy-touching incident demands a little altered reality.

“Can I have a mineral water with lime?” a girl asks from behind me, and I hold back a groan. I know that voice, and I know exactly who likes her water that way. Hopefully, she doesn't know the back of my head, because I haven't had nearly enough alcohol for this encounter.

No such luck. “Hey, I was wondering when I'd bump into you.”

I turn around, plastering on a smile. No T-shirt today. Instead, Bri's wearing a cute handkerchief-print maxi dress, her hair twisted messily on top of her head, a guitar pendant hanging from a thin silver chain around her long neck. I've never seen her in red
lipstick before, but it works on her, especially with her face framed by the wild red curls that've escaped her knot.

She looks beautiful.

“I was wondering the same about you. How long have you been here?”

“Just a couple minutes. Long enough to catch the shitshow with the reality guys. Never a dull moment around Josh Chester, is there?”

“Only when he's speaking.” I take a sip of my drink as I watch the bartender hand over hers. The water is cool and clear and looks so refreshing next to my mystery drink, I sort of want to swap. Except I need to escape my head after yesterday, just a little bit, and can't help feeling a little annoyed that she doesn't need to do the same. “Just water, huh?”

“For now,” she says simply.

She's showing no signs at all of feeling weird, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe everything was entirely in my head. I know that's a good thing, but for some reason, it's only making my annoyance grow. I need to take my drink and find a little peace and quiet.

“Okay, well.” I make like I'm looking at someone else over her shoulder and need to go say hi; let no one say acting skills don't come in handy off set. “I guess I'll see you around.”

I do in fact spot a bunch of people I could and probably should say hi to, and normally I would. But right now, I want to be alone more than I ever have before in my life.

No, that's not true. I don't want to be alone. As I walk away from Bri, putting purpose into my step until I'm pretty sure she's no longer watching, I think about how badly I miss my best friend. Ally would tell me that I'm being a complete idiot and reading far
too much into a new friendship. In fact, maybe that's exactly what I need to hear.

Now that the reality show guys are gone, the party's picked back up, so I duck inside Josh's house to make the call to Ally. It rings four times and goes to voicemail. Of course.

I get as far as “Hey, A,” before I realize I don't even really know what else to say. I don't want to talk to a machine. Why is it so impossible to have a normal freaking conversation these days? I sigh. “Just wanted to say hi. Guess I'll talk to you later.” I hit End and then stare at my phone, willing her to call me back, hoping she just needed to find a quiet space or something.

After four minutes, which I spend downing my drink, I'm contemplating calling her again, and of course, that's exactly when I hear, “You still PMS-ing, K-drama?”

I whirl around to see Josh double-fisting beers. “Do you just troll around coming up with the most offensive statements possible?”

“Would you believe it actually requires zero work on my part?”

“Oh, go away.”

“Seriously, Park, what crawled up your ass and died? You in a fight with Mini-Jade?”

“Stop calling her that,” I spit. “She isn't anything like her mother.”

“Then why are you so pissed I invited her here? I thought you guys were cool. Do yoga and stuff.”

And stuff.
I grit my teeth, feeling them grind, and then loosen my jaw again. “We're fine. We're friends. But you didn't have to invite her here.”

He shrugs. “Well, too late now. Anyway, I thought she was gonna be hanging out with you and your boyfriend. So, why'd he flake?”

“He didn't flake,” I say flatly. “I decided it'd be nice to be with just
Daylight
people tonight. I didn't realize you'd be inviting Bri or your gross friends.”

“What gross friends?”

I jerk my head toward the French doors leading out to the pool, and the group of guys sitting beyond it—Josh's usual posse of guys who get either the “Bad Boy with a Heart of Gold for the Right Girl” or “Dumb Stoner” roles. “What are they even doing here?”

Another shrug. “It's a party. They're my friends. They show up.”

“Well, they're not friends with any of the rest of us. Royce Hudson tried to stick a hand up my dress at the VMAs last year.”

“He's a dick when he's drunk,” Josh says, like that's any excuse. “Besides, they're friends with Liam, too.” He walks over to the door and peers through. “See? He's hanging out with them now. He's—oh, for fuck's sake, Shannah.”

“What?” I jump over to the door and follow Josh's eyeline. Sure enough, there's Liam, practically passed out on a chaise by the pool. And draped over him is none other than his and Josh's shared former bedbuddy.

I swing the door open and storm out, even as Josh yells at me to calm down. But there's no way in hell I'm calming down. I'm too worked up—about Bri, about Josh, about Ally not being here when I need her—and right now, Liam's looking like a perfect target. “What the
hell
, Liam? Are you kidding me?”

His head jerks up from where it had been bent way too close to the low neckline of Shannah's halter top. “Vanessa. I…what?” He blinks dumbly, and I think about how many girls have fallen hard for those ocean-colored eyes, including my best friend, who'd
probably answer his call at any hour. I look at his dark circles of exhaustion and remember that they come from working two movies on top of our show, and how much I struggle to land even a bit part in one.

I think about everything that's falling into his lap right now—how much he's taking for granted and how stupid he's being, letting Shannah near him while Ally's away—and I want to scream.

My rage must show on my face, because he pales considerably and pulls away from Shannah so fast she almost falls off the chair. “This is so not—I mean, you know this isn't anything. You
know
I was just sitting here, and there's nothing weird going on.”

He grabs for my arm, but I jump out of the way, nearly stumbling on a wayward beer bottle. I can't even see straight with the rage clouding my vision. It's one thing for
my
relationship to be bullshit—my relationships are
always
bullshit—but not Ally's. Not theirs. What they have is real—not staged hand-holding and kissing for the cameras and purity pledges, but actual love.

Or at least I thought it was. But I don't know the guy begging me for my silence right now. He sure seems a whole lot like more bullshit.

As if to further prove my point, the voice he uses to say, “Vanessa, you know me,” sounds like it belongs to a stranger.

“I did,” I say bitterly. “Back when you were actually around instead of ceding your airtime to Josh, and making my best friend happy instead of forcing her to wait for your phone calls every night so she winds up missing the parties and study sessions she
should
be going to. Somehow, I don't think ‘cheater' is that unbelievable a new role for you. Hell, you should tell
James Gallagher how good you are at it. He'll probably write a whole movie centered around it just for you.”

“Jesus, Vanessa. Is that why you're being like this? Because you're jealous?”

“I'm not
jealous
of anything, you jerk,” I spit, but we both know it's a lie. Of course I'm jealous that he's getting roles and
Daylight Falls
might be all I ever have. Of course I'm jealous that he's been in a relationship with someone for a year and all I've had since we publicity-dated is a string of irrelevant setups. Of course I'm jealous that he's on his own, with his own place and an established career, and his best friend still in town. “Just leave me alone.”

“Not until you promise you're not going to call Ally with some crazy story. You're just gonna upset her over nothing.”

“He's right, K-drama,” Josh chimes in. “Frankly, you're being a little crazy tonight. Maybe you
should've
brought Wilson to the party. Have him around to keep you in line.”

“I can't even deal with this right now,” I say on a sharp exhale, turning away from the guys and walking toward the beach.

“Van—”

“I won't call Ally,” I yell over my shoulder. “But you should.” And then I quicken my pace until I hit the sand, and the sound of crashing waves drowns out everything around me.

I haven't been on the beach more than five minutes when I hear Bri coming up behind me. “Hey, I've been looking for you everywhere. Are you okay?”

Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply, willing myself not to snap.
I don't want you here
, I think, wishing I could push the words out the back of my skull so I could get rid of her without turning, without speaking.

And I wish they were true.

“I'm fine,” I bite out, keeping my gaze fixed on the reflection of the moon in the Pacific.

“No, you aren't.”

I squeeze my eyes tight, as if it'll help me emit the necessary “go away” vibes, but my heart's not in it. I don't want to be alone. And what's more, Bri's company feels like exactly what I need right now.

“I saw you blow up at Liam,” she adds, her voice soft, like she's afraid to wake a sleeping beast.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

She sighs. “Fine. So we won't talk about it.” I hear a shuffling of sand, and I'm afraid she's turned around to go, but then I feel the warmth of her presence at my side. “We'll just stand here. Or sit here. Can I sit?”

I chew on my lip as I contemplate my response, and finally, I give up and shrug.

She drops onto the sand next to me. “So why are you out here if all your friends are up there?”

“I wanted to be alone.”

“You hate to be alone.”

For the first time, I turn to her full-on, meeting her seaglass-green gaze. “How do you know that?”

She shrugs, but I think I might see a hint of a blush in the moonlight. “How don't I? You've told me you hate shopping by yourself, and driving by yourself. And even on set, you're usually hanging out with Carly or Jamal. Other people separate themselves to get into the zone or whatever, but you never do. Even the exercise you do is always something with other people around.”

“God, are you always that observant? Or just when it comes to me?”

I'm embarrassed by the words as soon as they come out of my mouth—they don't sound quite how I mean them—but I'm also really curious about the answer.

“I don't know,” she mumbles, looking out at the ocean, the bangles on her wrist jangling as she draws a spiral pattern in the sand. “I'm perceptive, I guess.”

“Apparently.” I watch her trailing fingers, the way the sand flows around her black-painted nails. It's the first time I notice yet another tattoo—a tiny heart on her hand below the bridge between her thumb and index finger. “I didn't know you were coming tonight. Why didn't you say anything?”

She shrugs. “I wasn't sure I was. Josh just mentioned it this morning, and you hadn't said anything, so I didn't know if I should or not.”

“You don't need my permission to come to a party,” I say, making sure she can hear the teasing in my voice.

“Yeah, well, I came, so.”

I'm about to ask why, when I realize two things: 1) that's sort of rude; and 2) there's only one possible reason. She doesn't care about anyone else here. She isn't even trying to talk to anyone else—not Liam the Golden God, or Josh, who for whatever reason a million girls find irresistible. She's here for me, even after last night, even after the…touching.

And I don't know how to process why that makes my entire body fill with warmth, despite the breeze rolling in off the ocean.

“I'm glad you did,” I admit, and it feels like a weight lifting off my shoulders. Next to me, she visibly relaxes too. “I'm sorry if I've been…weird.”

Her fingers keep tracing, spirals giving way to other shapes—lightning bolts. Fish. Hearts. “You wanna talk about it?”

I do, but I don't. I'm embarrassed to even mention the purity pledge, and for whatever reason, I don't wanna talk about Zander with her, anyway. As for the rest…